


Seal the Deal

by Salt00



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Body Dysphoria, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cultural Differences, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Self-Imposed Weight Issues, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Seals (Animals), Selkie - Freeform, Selkies, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt00/pseuds/Salt00
Summary: Everyone knows not to mess with a Faerghan's cloak. Every man, woman, and child raised in Fodlan knows to respect a Faerghan's cloak and to never,ever, touch the cloak of a noble without permission. Goddess forbid any fool try tosteala Faerghan's cloak.Claude - not a woman, child, nor man raised in Fodlan - is freezing cold. He is very, very is cold and no one is willing to lend him a cloak.Rude.He takes matters into his own hands, for better or worse.Aka Selkie!AU
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 49
Kudos: 193





	1. For Want of Warmth

“It’s for diplomacy, Claude. Don’t go home yet Claude, go to Faerghus, what could go wrong? Everything will be fine Claude, it’s not like it’s the middle of winter in this Gods-forsaken hell-icicle they call a  _ country!” _ Maybe it was petty to talk to himself. Maybe he was delirious from the cold. Maybe he was dying! He was too damned cold, that was for sure! 

Just to spite him, the little crackling fire left in the hearth fizzled out. “No! Come back, I need you!” He stared at the smoking hunk of charcoal. Wishing for things to change achieved nothing, but nonetheless he wished  _ really hard _ for the fire to come back. 

It didn’t.

He bundled himself together and cursed the fireplace. Anything to distract himself from the cold. He was big enough of a man to admit he held some of the blame for his freezing conditions. A tiny bit. What a  _ brilliant _ idea to not bring his warm, puffy, toasty quilted jacket meant for the cold air of the sky.  _ Nooo, _ he just  _ had _ to switch to his Barbarossa outfit. His tits were going to freeze off. So much for looking intimidating, or impressive, or sexy, or  _ whatever _ stupid excuse he justified the switch back in Derdriu. 

He needed to get up and move around. Instead he curled in on himself, tucking his legs into his chest as he continued to pathetically shiver. What a sight he must be. Former Duke of Riegan and Prince of Almyra, felled by a ‘little cold snap’ as Sylvain called it. If Dimitri walked in on him like this, he was going to die on the spot. Or maybe beg his once academy crush to cuddle for warmth. Faerghans were  _ infuriating. _ None of them ever got cold! Maybe they radiated heat. Unfortunately fantasizing about Dimitri enveloping him in warmth did nothing to  _ actually _ warm him. 

The king had no reason to come check on him anyways. The old Blaiddyd estate (they weren’t even to Fhirdiad yet, they had to trek even  _ further _ north still!) held plenty of rooms for their not-so-little band. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to share a bed with someone. He’d take  _ Sylvain _ even if that meant getting groped in his sleep. Or Felix, getting stabbed a few times would be a decent trade off. Hell, if the emperor herself appeared before him, he might just throw himself at her feet for some warmth (okay, maybe not Edelgard. Or Hubert. But he was willing to risk literally anyone else.)

_ Okay.  _ He moped long enough. Blankets. He needed a mountain of blankets. Unfortunately the old estate’s supplies dwindled in the past five years of neglect, both from robbery and moths. Some of the more hardy Faerghans  _ volunteered to go without blankets. _ Granted, they all had toasty-looking cloaks to sleep in (unlike him.  _ Master tactician,  _ as if). He forced himself to his feet and shivered his way to the dusty bed. He really needed to fix up his temporary sleeping quarters. He  _ planned _ to after the fire warmed his bones. All he succeeded in was nearly pitching himself into the little blaze before it winked out. One of the Faerghans was probably chopping wood. Dimitri? Maybe Dimitri? Maybe he would deliver fresh wood to Claude, hot and sweaty from chopping, maybe give him a warm hug, maybe… 

He wrapped the thin, slightly holey blanket around himself. The little manor was in very poor shape. An icy breeze whistled into his room from somewhere.  _ Could be worse, _ he reminded himself. Despite ceding his title and land to Dimitri, he was still treated with the same respect his former station was owed. Unlike Leicester, Faerghus was serious about respecting superiors. Which meant he got his own room, the one deemed the ‘second best’ in the estate. Dimitri of course got the best. Teach would have gotten his room, but apparently they were used to sleeping in cold conditions and already set up their bed roll in a different spot. While the argument about moving them somewhere more ‘suitable’ had been humorous, he got stuck with the very spacious and somewhat breezy room. 

“Sorry mom, sorry dad. Guess I didn’t make it home. I’m not going to make it.” What was he saying? He couldn’t give up  _ here! _ It was just a little cold. He needed to swallow his damned pride and get help. Maybe go to a mage and request some fire. Check out what the others were up to. Dedue and Ashe were probably in the process of making dinner (Gods he  _ needed _ whatever was for dinner to be warm, stew better be on the menu). Maybe someone had a real blaze of a fire roaring. Maybe he would just throw himself at the first warm-looking person he could find and beg. If he was lucky he might get help. Or maybe he would find Felix and the swordsman would put him out of his misery.

Plan in place, he left his room. The door handle was just as icy as everything else. Where were his gloves? He’d taken off his boots because the outer metal was sucking the life out of him. Where were his gloves though? Damned hells, he couldn’t think past the cold. What was his plan again? Find someone?

Dimitri’s room was just down the hall from his. To get anywhere else would involve going down some perilous stairs that were iced over wind tunnels.  _ Right, _ that was why he hadn’t left his room earlier. Dimitri’s room it was.

“Hey Your Kingliness, how’s it g-going?” He didn’t bother knocking as he rushed inside. Yanking his hand away from the cold door handle and tucking it under his armpit, he forced himself to stand up straight. He might be huddled in a blanket and chattering, but he could huddle in a blanket and chatter with  _ dignity.  _

Silence greeted him. “Hello? Your Royalness?” Eyes sweeping around the room, he came to the intelligent conclusion that Dimitri wasn’t around. “Great. All that for nothing.” At least the room was slightly (very, very slightly) warmer. The tapestries against the walls were less damaged than the ones in his room. The door must have had a good lock on it to save it from looters. Moths on the other hand cared not for the whims of man and only cared for the tasty textiles of man. Oh well. The tapestries remaining made much better insulation than his barren room.

In any other circumstance Claude’s mood would skyrocket at the chance to snoop. It seemed his snoop-instinct wasn’t cold resistant. Lucky for him, it was perfectly in character to sneak into Dimitri’s room. He could claim he… wanted to talk tactics! Yes. And that he was just waiting for the blond to return. Dimitri  _ did _ tell him to make himself at home after all. Making himself ‘at home’ meant lighting the whole damned place on fire just to have a taste of home’s warmth though, so he’d settle for crashing in Dimitri’s room. It wasn’t really Dimitri’s room either, just the master bedroom. He was willing to bet Dimitri’s father stayed in the room at least a few times. And a long line of ancestors as well. The place was just begging for him to uncover its long lost secrets!

His snoop-instinct was still intact. His willingness to act on that instinct, less so. He shuffled over to Dimitri’s bed, pleased to note that someone (Dedue, probably) already dusted the mattress. That guy worked fast. Dimitri was spoiled with a whole  _ two _ blankets. Surely it wouldn’t be  _ that _ weird if Dimitri walked in on him in his bed. He was cold! Any pride he held about his weakness to the cold was long shattered when they encountered snow (for the first time in his case) and he didn’t exactly perform well. The Faerghans took pity on him (yet all refused to lend him so much as a measly cloak), which was why he was sent to bed early instead of being put to work like… 

Oh, right. Dimitri was helping around the estate. Like everyone else. Hadn’t someone mentioned they would bring him more wood when there was some cut? Surely that was hours ago, or perhaps his sense of time was frozen. Dimitri wouldn’t begrudge him the warmth of blankets and a dust-free bed. He was a nice guy like that (now that he wasn’t, uh,  _ whatever _ he’d been like at Gronder). 

The two extra blankets joined his own. They were just as thin and barely helped at all.

Despite wanting to curl up and sleep forever, he forced himself to pace around the room. Maybe he could pull a tapestry down and use that as a thick blanket? That was a lot of dust to deal with though… He wasn’t sure his numb fingers were dexterous enough to yank one down without causing damage to it.  _ Hell, _ he had money! He could just pay Dimitri back! 

Just before he tried tugging at a tapestry, something else caught his eye. Carefully folded on the dresser was Dimitri’s cloak.  _ The  _ cloak. The blue and black one with white and black fur. Dimitri’s cloak that he never took off. THE cloak. 

Claude squeezed his eyes shut and clasped his numb hands together. “To any God or Goddess or spirit out there taking pity on me, I love you.” He then scrambled to the cloak as fast as possible, snatching it up and throwing it around his shoulders. “It’s so warm!” he muffled into the fur. Okay, so it wasn’t warm  _ yet, _ but it was thick and as soon as his body heat got the message it would be  _ heavenly. _ Also it smelled like Dimitri which was a nice touch and maybe a little creepy of him to note. It wasn’t even dirty or gross like he half-expected it to be.  _ Must be why Dimitri doesn’t have it now… _ if he remembered right, Dimitri mentioned something about mucking the old stables or something. The cloak seemed to be the one thing Dimitri took care of over the years judging by the relative lack of wear. There were probably tears or stains if he chose to look, but he was a bit busy.

He hunkered onto the floor, not even bothering with the bed. Bed could come after his fingers had feeling again. Closing his eyes, he bundled it as tightly around him as possible and ducked his nose underneath, sighing as warmth steadily flowed through him… 

* * *

Dimitri glared at the door. “Claude. I knocked three times. I’m coming in now.” With any luck the duke (former duke?) was merely sleeping. Though his memories were hazy at best, he recalled from their academy days how deeply Claude despised being surprised and how much effort he invested into ‘creative’ locks. It was doubtful Claude had the time to set up anything devious, but Claude was always full of surprises. If anyone could set up a fully functioning poison-trap in a two-hour time window, it was Claude.

His glare turned into a frown. Claude wasn’t in his room. Probably. “Are you hiding?”  _ No response. _ Given the lack of blanket, dusty mattress, and dead fire, he was certain Claude was not present. Mostly certain. He set his armload of wood down beside the fireplace and looked around. There were footsteps in the dust (aside from his own) so Claude  _ had _ been in the room at some point. The steps only went from the door, to the fireplace, to the bed, and back to the door. Odd. The Claude of his youthful memories would have turned the room upside down.

_ Or… the entire estate. _ Claude must be out exploring. He felt the corner of his lips turn upwards. It wasn’t quite a smile, but even after five long years Claude’s antics still managed to achieve a grain of amusement in his cold corpse.  _ No, no.  _ Not a corpse. He  _ lived. _ He was still living.

If Claude was predictable (he rarely was), then the former noble would choose to poke through the master room while he was away. Or perhaps Claude was lying in wait in the master room, waiting to ‘surprise’ him or some nonsense. He wasn’t sure exactly what the current-Claude might do. So similar to his academy-crush, yet so different. Claude matured well, both in appearance and capability. He was a far better leader than Dimitri…  _ Why leave his land to one so unstable? _ Claude couldn’t truly plan to leave him — to leave him with so much extra responsibility when he was barely treading water in his own head. And yet, if he hadn’t begged Claude to stay at  _ least _ for another month…

He left the room. He needed to find Claude before his thoughts overtook him. The cries of his ghosts clamored for his attention as always. Claude always had been good at distracting him (at times, far too good.)

He knocked on ~~his father’s~~ the master room. “Claude. I’m coming in.” He waited exactly five seconds before entering. His shoulders drooped as he examined the empty room. “Ah… of course. He’s not one to be predictable like that.”

At least it gave him something to focus on (anything to get away from his thoughts). A  _ mystery, _ as Claude-of-the-past might gleefully claim. Perhaps that was Claude’s scheme. To lead him on a merry chase… again he felt the corners of his lips twitch. 

“Now if I was Claude, where would I go?” he mumbled out loud. “Library? Does the estate even have a library…? Blast, I can’t remember. Or perhaps he’s having dinner…”  _ No, _ he hadn’t seen Claude with the others. He’d planned on adding fuel to Claude’s fire, then inviting him down to dinner for some of Dedue and Ashe’s stew… because… 

“I am a fool. He must be cold.” The cold didn’t touch Dimitri like a normal human. Even without his cloak he was far more resistant than others. All crested Faerghan nobles were. Claude it seemed was even more vulnerable to the cold than most. Both Dedue and Ashe were used to a cold and harsh climate. Ingrid, who’s crest was native to Leicester, was also deficient of Faerghus’ natural cold resistance. However her life spent in cold temperatures made her just as resistant as Ashe and Dedue. Everyone else in their command held a crest. Even Mercedes, the least cold resistant of them from growing up in warm Adrestia, could easily tolerate the blustery weather. 

Claude though… Goddess, it was like the poor man had never seen snow before. His clothes were unsuited to the cold. Though Claude’s outfit did an excellent job serving the purpose of distracting any looking upon his figure (and chest), the cold was not as easily distracted as human eyes and minds. Even  _ he _ took note of Claude’s struggles as the weather turned colder and he was not an observant man. Traveling light as they were to return to Fhirdiad ahead of the main army, there were no extra clothes to heap upon him either. A piece of the boy he once was, long thought dead and buried, roared back to life. He hadn’t exactly been  _ doting _ on Claude. He was not nearly so considerate, present, gentle, or observant enough to achieve that. But he’d done his best to give Claude as much comfort as he was able (which was not much). The other former Blue Lions were far better at ‘doting’ on the Leicester noble… though he had to admit, something about watching others lend Claude their aid ate at him. 

He was thinking too much again. Claude likely shoved himself in whatever warmish hole he could find, no doubt chattering himself half to death. At least that was an audible sign that Claude wasn’t in the room. Unless hyperthermia settled in… that would be bad. It couldn’t be that cold. Right? Dedue, Ashe, or Ingrid would have informed him. Maybe not Ingrid. She didn’t seem to like Claude much.

Nothing for it. Dedue mentioned that he left two blankets on his bed (two, an outrageous number that he didn’t need!) Claude would appreciate them more than he. He…

The blankets were gone. 

Eyeing the floor, he couldn’t trace footsteps like the other room. Dedue hadn’t dusted everything, but the dust on the floor was disturbed enough that he couldn’t track footsteps. So Claude  _ had _ entered his room. Again, inexplicably, he found himself smiling slightly. It seemed he had a blanket thief to find. He swept to the counter he left his cloak and— 

His cloak.

His cloak was missing.

He stared at the spot. The counter left enough dust to leave an imprint where his cloak  _ had _ been. His cloak. 

He whirled, scanning the rest of the room.  _ “Where is it?” _ He yanked open old drawers, checked the mattress, looked behind the tapestries, looked  _ everywhere. “Where, where, where…!” _ It was gone. His heart pounded unending in his chest.  _ It was gone. _ 23 years, he managed to keep it throughout his entire life, and yet only now…!

He slumped to the ground, his back against the wall. _Think._ _Calm._ He forced himself to breathe like the professor taught him. In… hold… out… In… hold… out… 

Claude was missing. His cloak was missing. Claude must have his cloak. Surely.  _ Surely, surely, surely it can’t be gone. _ How dare Claude? How  _ dare _ he. His cloak. The one thing that he couldn’t afford to lose. The one thing he held onto for five long, long years. Claude wouldn’t take his cloak. Claude  _ must _ know better.  _ Everyone knows not to take a Faerghan’s cloak. _ Even if he was cold,  _ surely _ Claude wouldn’t stoop so low.

Unless… unless Claude stole it. Just waiting for him to lower his guard. Playing up how affected he was by the cold. Tapping into old, lingering feelings. ‘Offering’ his land in an insane gambit. Claude had his cloak. 

_ “He will take it to HER. He has you at his mercy. Find him. Find him! Kill him! Kill them both!” _

“No… no, he wouldn’t. Claude wouldn’t.”

_ “He’s smart… tricky… scheming. He would. If it means he benefited, you know he would. Anything to win.” _

“No! He’s not like that! Shut up!” He covered his ears, digging fingers into his scalp. “I trust him! This is just, just, some misunderstanding!”

_ “Your heart is weak… it will be your undoing.” _

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop! Be silent!”

_ “Kill her… kill him… make them both pay… they have both betrayed you…” _

“Claude would never betray me! You’re wrong!” He reached for the first thing he found and threw it. The vase passed through the wretched visage of his father and shattered against the bedpost. 

_ “Arp.” _

Everything went silent. The tiny noise rang in his ears. It was familiar. He slowly got to his knees and crawled over to the bed, careful to avoid shards of ceramic. He knelt down and peered under the bed. Two large black eyes glimmered back at him. 

“Claude?” The seal under his bed seemed to flatten itself further against the floor as if to sink away. It was scrunched together as much as possible, head sunk into its neck. The fearful posture was regrettably familiar. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to come out softly. “I apologize. I suppose I scared you. Would you like to come out?” The seal — who most certainly was Claude — didn’t move. His stomach dropped. Of course he scared Claude. A horrible boar such as himself… 

“You can stay there if you prefer.”  _ Should he stay or leave? _ It wasn’t like Claude could tell him. When they were children, Felix frightened often enough that he recognized the signals of fear in Claude. Worse, he remembered one of Claude’s own episodes back at the academy. His only episode really, compared to Dimitri’s many episodes… He still didn’t know what triggered Claude’s panic, but it ended with the Riegan heir stuffing himself under the bed, silent and petrified. The Claude-in-his-memories was a jumpy hare. Collected on the outside and always scheming escape on the inside. Or perhaps he was assuming too much. They hadn’t been  _ that _ close… 

Claude moved slightly. It occurred to Dimitri that he had been laying on the floor for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts. That Claude was moving at all was good. He assumed. Anything was better than petrified-Claude. 

“You got cold, I assume.” The pieces slotted together in his mind. “You never have been much for superstition. I recall that much. I suppose now you see why they say never to steal a Faerghan’s cloak.” With any luck, Claude didn’t know how much power he held over Dimitri by pure merit of holding his skin. 

A near silent whimper came from Claude. That was good. Claude hated making noise when he was afraid.

“Please come out? I can remove the cloak if you are having trouble with it.” Slowly Claude unflattened himself. His flippers scrabbled against the wood as he struggled to move himself. “Not easy to move on land, I’m aware. I can pull you out.” He reached his hand under the bed, waiting for Claude to come to him.

There was some shuffling, then the short fur of his skin brushed his human hand. It wasn’t his first time seeing his cloak on another. He, Felix, Sylvain, and Glenn routinely shared their cloaks with Ingrid growing up. Still, it was odd. Carefully patting Claude’s side, he reached under and hefted the seal out of the dusty space.

Claude blinked in the light a few times, then sneezed. Dimitri used his sleeve to wipe excess dust off the wet black nose. From there he settled Claude against his chest and into his lap, stroking (carefully, carefully) down Claude’s back to dust off the fur. Something he always loved about seal forms was the thick, almost bouncy blubber made it difficult to accidentally hurt his friends. His own hide specifically was more than strong enough to withstand his brutish strength. 

“I’m sure you’re warmer like that,” he murmured, enraptured by the way his own sealskin wrapped around Claude. It was still  _ his  _ skin, of course. The black and white stripes of his cloak patterned down Claude’s back as short fur, his underbelly the same spotted bluish-grey as Dimitri’s. Scars were present too — from the little slice he got around his neck as a child in an accident to the deep scar across his belly from when he (not so successfully) evaded a too-large pack of imperials in one of his more lucid moments. Yet it was so obviously Claude under the skin. Just as Dimitri’s black seal eyes glimmered icy blue, Claude’s shone with a tint of verdant green. Claude was still just as long as the Leicester noble typically was tall, not gaining any length from Dimitri’s large skin. The excess skin translated to him being a bit shorter and significantly rounder than Dimitri was as a seal. Dimitri was large but without much blubber, while Claude’s body translated that to being average sized with a lot of blubber and some loose skin. It was more that Dimitri was unhealthily thin for such a large seal rather than anything about Claude specifically. If Dimitri was properly plump as a seal, Claude likely wouldn’t have been able to fit under the bed. “Much, much warmer, I expect.”

Claude’s seal face scrunched adorably. His flipper wiggled towards him a bit, unable to reach anything but Dimitri’s side. The flipper went  _ slap _ against Claude’s belly, startling the man-turned-seal in a full body flinch. He suppressed a laugh but judging by Claude’s (attempted) glare, his smile was very visible.

“I’m going to flip you over,” he said as he did just that. Claude tensed for a moment before relaxing and allowing himself to be manhandled. “I’ll get you out in a few moments. It’s much easier to get the dust off now like this. And, ah, you  _ are _ the one who got it dusty.” Which was true. It was very true! The fact that he enjoyed watching Claude’s expressions as a seal was merely a bonus.

Claude huffed but otherwise gave no further complaint. Though he hadn’t played with anyone as a seal in a very, very long time, he could never forget how enjoyable a belly rub was. Sylvain was the best at giving seal-belly-rubs, but Felix and Ingrid both agreed he was a close second.

Claude’s eyes closed as he sighed, a picture of contentment. Far better than his earlier fear. Claude was by far the, er, roundest seal Dimitri had ever met (again, his fault and not Claude’s). Though some of his skin was looser than it should be, overall he was… squishy.  _ Very huggable, _ the cursed part of his brain informed him. 

Even after getting all the dust off, he continued to rub Claude’s belly. Claude made a very cute seal when he was happy.

“That should be good enough,” he forced himself to say. Claude lazily opened one eye. “Now I don’t expect we’ll have this issue again. However, the trick to getting out is—” Claude huffed again and closed his eye. “Claude? Are you listening?”

Claude smacked his belly, flinching a bit at the loud sound. “You want more belly rubs, don’t you.” Claude made a low snore-like noise. Belly rubs did have a tendency to make him drowsy… “And I suppose you enjoy being warm.”

He considered letting Claude ‘borrow’ his cloak. Aside from children, such a thing simply wasn’t  _ done. _ Not unless the couple was married. Heat rose into his cheeks. Claude was literally wearing his skin and looked so comfortable. That there was still a part of himself that could be desirable to anyone was baffling. And such an intimate part of himself too… 

_ No, no, what was he thinking? _ He felt for the little seam around Claude’s neck. Being his own skin, the magic to undo the cloak was instinctual. It could be learned in time (Ingrid proved as much), but there was no way Claude could undo it himself.

He tucked his fingers under the seam and twisted. The fur rippled. He pulled the ‘hood’ back as the ‘face’ of his skin melded into a more generic cloak appearance. Claude — now human — had the lower half of his face tucked under the fur. His eyes were shut, relaxed like he was dozing. Despite knowing better — there was no way Claude was truly sleeping — he indulged himself to stare at Claude’s handsome face. Eventually Claude’s nose twitched, then his face scrunched, then his emerald eyes opened. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly. 

“You aren’t a seal anymore.”

Claude’s eyebrows rose and he immediately shuffled around. “Oh. Oh good, I have hands again. And legs. Excellent. This thing isn’t going to turn me into a seal again, is it?”

“So long as you don’t pull it tight around yourself.”

“Gotcha.” Claude apparently took that as an invitation to remain cozied up in his skin. “Thanks for the save. What an experience! When I said I was willing to pay an arm and a leg to get warm, that wasn’t what I meant. You’re the last person I expected to own a cursed cloak.”

“It’s not cursed!” he snapped. 

Claude flinched and he immediately regretted raising his voice. “Easy, easy. My apologies. Can you blame me for jumping to conclusions? It was quite the shock to  _ turn into a seal. _ You’re not the sort of person I expect to carry around an  _ enchanted _ cloak.”

“It’s not enchanted either.” He sighed, resigned to allow Claude temporary sanctuary in his skin. Sylvain would never let him live this down if he knew. “The ‘stories’ they tell about Faerghan nobles are not false. You have only yourself to blame for what happened.”

Claude narrowed his eyes, cocking his head slightly. “Stories? What, of chivalrous knights and honorable kings?”

“No. The tales of selkies.”

“Selkies huh? Interesting.” Claude cozied himself up, reminding Dimitri of their  _ close _ proximity. Claude’s head on his chest. Claude was in his  _ lap. _ Bundled in his own  _ skin!  _ “Can’t say it rings a bell. I’m always down to hear a bedtime story from Your Royalness.”

“You — don’t know? But everyone knows.”

“What, Faerghan stories? Sorry to say Leicester is a bit short on those.”

“All of Fódlan is aware. Everyone at the academy knew. Are you messing with me? You  _ must _ know the… connotations behind stealing my cloak.”

“First of all, I  _ borrowed _ it. Didn’t steal it!”

“You truly don’t know. Goddess. You thought this was a regular cloak?”

“Yeah? How was I supposed to know it’s magic!” Claude actually looked  _ offended. _ Whether it was because of Dimitri’s accusations or because of his own lack of information blindsiding him, Dimitri wasn’t sure. “What purpose is there in a cloak that turns people into seals? Anti-theft?”

“You have it backwards. This,” he patted the fur, “is my skin. In Faerghus, those born with crests are born as seals. After a year of life the fur and skin is pulled away from the child.”

Green eyes burned into his own. “Well now, that’s a new one. You’re telling me that you were born as a seal. That your human mother gave birth… to a seal. And that I’m laying in your literal shed skin.”

“That is accurate, yes.”

“You are aware you sound crazy, yeah?”

He winced. “At times I am aware, yes. This is not one of those times. Ask anyone else and they will confirm what I said. But don’t tell anyone about this!”  _ For both of their sake. _ “Please do not mention this, er, incident. Clearly you didn’t know, but stealing one’s cloak is a very serious crime in Faerghus. Stealing a king’s cloak is  _ very _ serious.” He stroked the soft fur that even in his darkest days never failed to bring him comfort. “For our very skin to be stolen is… abominable. It is a part of me. I have lost more than enough of myself. To lose this too… I don’t know what I would do.”  _ Nothing good, for certain. _

“I didn’t steal it. I didn’t even leave the room, I only  _ borrowed _ it.”

“I know. That is why you are still laying where you are, rather than as a headless heap on the floor.”

Green eyes widened. “A very serious crime indeed.” Claude fidgeted a bit, twisting the fur lining near his neck between his fingers. “I suppose you want your… er, ‘skin’ back.”

_ Goddess, Sylvain better never learn of this. _ “It’s keeping you warm. I don’t need it currently.” He stood abruptly, causing Claude to yelp. “Apologies.” He gently laid Claude down on the bed. Pinning the corner of the cloak-neck to itself to prevent another accidental transformation, he tucked the cloak snuggly around a stunned Claude. “Warm enough for you?”

Claude recovered quickly, throwing together a grin. “Warm enough, sure. Gotta say, I’ve never been as warm as I was as a seal though. Is that how you Faerghans stay warm all the time?”

“It’s related, yes. Blubber is excellent at holding in warmth.”

“Fascinating! Why  _ seals _ though, I have to wonder. And how does it even work? My blankets and clothes transformed with me. Did they become — what did you call it, blubber? If this transformation works on everyone, I wonder—”

“It doesn’t,” he interrupted. Five years of war couldn’t stifle Claude’s curious spirit it seemed. “The transformation only affects those with crests. As for why only Faerghan crests-bearers are born as seals, I don’t know. The amount of clothes you wear before you transform has no effect on the end result.”

Claude leaned his neck forward, eyes wide and almost as adorable as they were as a seal.  _ Wait, no, that wasn’t—  _ “What happens if two people wear the cloak at once? Do they become a two-headed seal? Or are they fused into one seal body? Or does that make  _ two _ seals? What about—”

“Enough!” He immediately regretted raising his voice. The last thing he wanted was for Claude to be afraid of him.

“Oh come on, humor me! Have you tried it? Tell me the limits of your seal-y powers, Oh Kingly Seal.”

He sighed, either unwilling or unable to hide his smile. “I imagine wearing a sealskin with another person would be vastly uncomfortable. It is not something I am willing to test.” He ignored Claude’s little  _ ‘aww’. _ Sharing one’s skin with another was an intimate affair, though he didn’t know any stories quite like Claude’s idea. “Are you going to pester me all night?”

“Oh absolutely.” Claude didn’t even hesitate. “What do you look like as a seal?”

“Are you hungry?” he abruptly asked, spinning to face the door. “I am certain Dedue saved a serving for us both. However, if I take much longer fetching you, someone may come check on us.”  _ And that was the last thing he needed with Claude laying in his bed, in his  _ skin.

“Please tell me the food is warm. I’ll die if I have to eat cold rations.”

“Stew, I believe.”

“Very well, I shall postpone my seal-related pestering for now.” Claude shuffled off the bed, cloak still hugging his frame.

“You can’t wear that in public,” he blurted out, vision of Claude standing in his too-big skin somehow far more scandalous than mere huddling for warmth. 

Claude protectively clutched the fur, angling his body away. “Uh, hello, I can and  _ will _ freeze without this. This is your fault for having such warm and comfortable skin.” He paused. “Huh. Now that’s a new sentence. Ahem. You can either let me  _ die, _ tragically, exploiting my one crippling weakness that I have so magnanimously exposed to your trust, or I keep  _ borrowing _ your cloak. Or you find a better way to keep me warm.”

“I left wood for a fire in your room.”

“Psh, that little fire barely did anything. A slightly bigger fire won’t stop the breeze in that room. Look, I don’t have your seal antifreeze magic. Maybe you can’t tell, but it is very…  _ very… _ cold. I recall you begging me to come with you to Fhirdiad. At this rate I doubt I’ll make it… unless of course, His Sealness decides to be generous and offer his cloak to this poor child of summer.”

“Please do not call me that.” He scrubbed his glove down his face, grateful he wasn’t facing Claude.  _ He doesn’t know any better.  _ “You truly enjoy wearing my cloak so much?”

“Absolutely.”

He gulped. “It doesn’t… disgust you?”

“Disgust me? Of course not! It’s just leather and fur. Besides, it’s from you. I can tell you’ve taken good care of it.”

How Claude managed that with such an innocent tone, Dimitri couldn’t understand. Claude might be cold, but he was doing an excellent job of making Dimitri’s face uncomfortably hot. “You can have it. During the cold! Just to keep you warm, of course. But you can’t be seen wearing it in public.”

He wasn’t looking at Claude but nonetheless felt those insatiable eyes on his neck. “Why’s that?”

“Because it implies we are sleeping together.”  _ At the least.  _ It also implied he was married or about to marry Claude. 

“…Really? If you say so.” Claude trailed off, mumbling something to himself. “Does that mean that Faerghan nobility have sex as seals…?”

“No!” He covered his burning face. “Stay here, I’ll bring you dinner!”

By the time he returned with two bowls of stew, his face was still warm. Claude was just cold, it didn’t  _ mean _ anything. But the image of Claude swamped in his skin, of loving and appreciating his skin… of marrying… 

“I’m back,” he said as he shouldered his way into the room. “Still fresh and hot, you… ah. You pulled it too tight again.”

Claude-the-seal lay squished flat-ish on the bed, embarrassed plain as day. Dimitri laughed, then nearly spilled both their dinner in his shock. When was the last time he laughed so lightly? He carefully set their dinner down and moved to the bed, carefully peeling the sealskin away from Claude.

“I meant to do that,” Claude-the-human stated convincingly. 

“You are very poor at hiding your feelings as a seal. Did you get cold again?”

“I was merely testing it out. Think of all the things you could sneak away! Anything you fit under your cloak stays with you as a seal. Think of the possibilities! You could smuggle an armory of weapons and swim them to a new location. Or a stockpile of food!”

“That mind of yours never stops, does it.” Claude’s babbling was almost enough to make him forget the Leicester noble accidentally turned himself into a seal again.  _ Almost. _ An idea occurred to him… or rather, as Claude would call it, a  _ scheme. _ “Go on and eat. After, we can sleep. You’ll want to ‘bundle up’ afterwards. I expect it will get far colder tonight. You won’t need to fear getting cold as a seal.” 

Claude’s eyes flew wide.  _ “Even colder? _ How do people  _ live _ here?! Gods, never would have guessed ‘transform into a seal’ could be a legitimate survival method. Sure, sure. Let’s eat, then I’ll get out of your hair for the night.”

“Back to your room? If you choose to do so, I insist you leave my cloak behind. I dislike it leaving my sight.” He stroked down the fur, fingers inches from Claude’s face. “I cannot sleep without knowing it is safe. Over the years…” he trailed off, not wanting to talk about the past five years. “I trust you have no plans to steal it. Regardless…”

“I suppose we can compromise. I’m not sleeping on the floor though.”

After they ate, Claude pulled the cloak close and ducked his face into the fur. The fur rustled and puffed up, smoothing into the sleek (or in Claude’s case, round) seal body he was so familiar with. Claude wiggled and squirmed, evidently unable to find a comfortable enough position.

“Here.” He opened his arms. The cursed part of his brain cheered. “It’s instinct to sleep beside another warm body as a seal. You won’t sleep well otherwise.” A fib on his part, somewhat. It  _ was _ true that as a child he always slept best in a seal pile. It was just personal preference though. Claude hesitated, beady eyes sweeping between his arms and the empty space between them. “You said you were cold. I suppose I can turn you back, if you prefer to sleep on your own without my skin…”

Claude wobbled forward, wiggling as he struggled to properly move on the mattress. After a few tries, Claude nosed his way into Dimitri’s arms. Perhaps he should practice scheming more often. It was very satisfying to pull one off. Claude’s seal-face tucked under his chin, his flippers awkwardly flopping about until they found a comfortable position. 

_ Yes, the perfect huggable shape. _ He stroked down Claude’s back, stopping to scratch at the spots he knew were most pleasantly sensitive. Claude, unused to the sensation, made happy little huffs. Before long his breathing trailed off into sleep.


	2. Therapy Seal for Hire (Former occupations: Duke, Prince, Overall Menace)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two notes:  
> 1) Instead of going to Garreg Mach after retaking Derdriu, everyone goes back to Fhirdiad. If you want an in-universe reason, uh, Claude convinced Dimitri that it would be more efficient this way or smthn.   
> 2) ngl I can’t remember if Dimitri is actually crowned or not after they retake Fhirdiad, but I think it was implied? I think everyone still refers to him as Your Highness (and *Prince* Dimitri) in game. In this fic at least when talking about him as a king, people will refer to him as Your Majesty (proper title for a king). Idk why but it’s a minor pet peeve of mine lol. This is a lot more relevant next chapter when other BL are involved ;)
> 
> Oh yeah and I guess I only somewhat implied it last chap, but this takes place in the month after rescuing Claude but before Fort Merceus/Enbarr

“Are there any side-effects I should be aware of?” he asked as Dimitri entered the room carrying a pot of tea. Since reaching Fhirdiad noon tea-time became routine for them. Four days since they reached the capital, seven nights total he spent as a seal in Dimitri’s bed (that sentence was  _ still _ weird to think). Dimitri settled the heavenly cloak around his shoulders before joining him at the table. That too was a new habit for the king. Ever since he cajoled Dimitri into letting him borrow it, the king always gave it to him in private. He didn’t technically need it at the moment, as Fhirdiad castle (being a still-occupied residence) was far warmer than the abandoned estate. So long as he didn’t go outside his accommodations were warm enough. Regardless, he liked the heavy cloak. He’d gotten better at not accidentally turning into a seal, though turning back into a human was a mystery to him.

“Are you experiencing side-effects?” Dimitri asked, not answering his question.   


“Might just be the cold environment,” he replied with a shrug, sipping his tea.  _ Chamomile, as ever.  _ Part of him wondered if Dimitri remembered his preference for the stuff. From what he gathered, Dimitri’s memories were spotty in more places than not. He leaned over the table and reached for a biscuit. He rolled a pastry between his fingers, sniffing at it before snapping it in half. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Dimitri take one of the biscuits for himself, eating it in one bite. Part of him unwillingly relaxed, part bristled at the fact that Dimitri  _ knew _ about his habit of checking for poisons. Another part of him fed exasperation towards the king.  _ Dimitri was going to die by poisoning one of these times. _ He finished his inspection before plopping the biscuit into his mouth, savoring the taste and searching for anything out of the ordinary. 

“Dedue made them,” Dimitri assured him.  _ Still, it was possible for ingredients to be tampered with. _ He shrugged and waited. Meanwhile, Dimitri cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from him. “I’ve never noticed any side-effects of being a seal. However, I was born with it. I don’t believe Ingrid ever mentioned anything, but she has been shifting since she too was a child.”

He hummed into his tea.  _ Why bring up Ingrid? Curious. _ “She wasn’t born with as a seal?”

“Ah. No, she wasn’t. Her crest is Daphnel, originating from Leicester. As you’re aware.” Dimitri mumbled something to himself, briefly lapsing. 

“So she’s like me then? Borrowing a cloak?”

Dimitri jerked, then winced. Every so often the man got lost in his own head and seemed to forget Claude existed. “No, no. She has her own.”

He set his cup down and laced his fingers, leaning forward. “Fascinating. It’s possible to grow one?” Would he get his own? Exciting but worrisome. Having a ‘piece’ of himself vulnerable to being stolen was the last thing he needed. That aside, he wouldn’t need Dimitri’s cloak anymore if he had his own. He quite liked Dimitri’s cloak.

Irritation bled into Dimitri’s expression. “Of course not. It’s Glenn’s cloak.”

“Glenn? Can’t say I remember any Glenn. Thinking back on it though, you mentioned his name once or twice.”

“Glenn Fraldarius. Felix’s older brother, Ingrid’s former fiancé. He died at Duscur.” The metal of Dimitri’s gauntlets creaked.

Despite the distinct feeling of stumbling into a tripwire, he kept his smile in place. “Apologies, I wasn’t aware. Enough about seals. I’m surprised you haven’t taken my head for pestering you so often. Go on, tell me about your day so far.”

“It’s no bother. Your curiosity is as endearing as ever,” Dimitri stated plainly. Claude wasn’t sure how to take the compliment. Then the king deflated and groaned, thumping his head against the table. “There is so much to be done…” Claude was proud that it only took him two days to break down the king’s barriers about relaxing.  _ ‘I have no right to complain,’ _ this and  _ ‘It is my duty to bear,’ _ that. It still crept back in occasionally but Claude was excellent at nipping it in the bud. He was becoming something of a Dimitri-expert.

As the king explained whatever issue was on the table today — some reform over one of Cornelia’s outrageous taxes and the further rebuilding of the city, all on top of resupplying and making ready for their march to Fort Merceus — Claude’s mind drifted. He offered advice and a shoulder to complain on as always, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the mystery that everyone but him already knew about. Casually trying to bring up the ‘seal thing’ to other Faerghans seemed to be taboo for an outsider like himself. His search for books on the subject so far fell flat. He was forced to assume ‘seal knowledge’ was kept to oral tradition. If he wasn’t so busy lending a hand to Dimitri, he might go mad with how little he uncovered.

Each night during the march to Fhirdiad, he and Dimitri shared a tent. His pride was not so large as to be unable to admit he needed  _ something _ to help him ride out the cold of Faerghus. As unconventional the method, being a seal was the perfect solution. Now that they were in the warm castle of the capital he didn’t need Dimitri’s magic cloak — skin, whatever — to manage the biting chill.

Yet he still spent the night in Dimitri’s bed. As a seal.

They didn’t discuss it. Why would they? Claude enjoyed it. Dimitri clearly enjoyed it. They both slept better (though never perfectly) while together. Dimitri held him like a giant stuffed Nader bear, able to squeeze him without any injury sinking past the layers of thick skin and blubber. He got to be held — and dare he say it,  _ cherished _ — as Dimitri always petted him before bed. Again, the blow to his pride was worth it. When was the last time anyone touched him the way Dimitri did? Probably never. Even better, sometimes he got stories out of the king. Dimitri might trace a scar on Claude’s hide, then tell the tale about how  _ ‘Felix was playing around with a blade when we were four,’ _ or  _ ‘Ingrid always underestimated her bite strength in Glenn’s skin, used to our smaller forms’. _ Other times Dimitri scratched spots around his face that sent him flying onto a blissful cloud.  _ ‘Sylvain used to bribe me with belly-rubs. They feel nice, don’t they,’ _ or  _ ‘Right here, this is my favorite spot to be scratched. I see you enjoy it too.’ _

“Do you want to be the seal tonight?” Claude interrupted Dimitri, who blinked at him without comprehension. “You seem to miss being a seal. You’ve already shown me the best places to be scratched. I can return the favor.”

Dimitri’s gaze fell to his lap. “That is considerate of you. No, I am fine. You can continue to be the seal. You enjoy it. And it keeps you warm. That’s why you need my cloak, after all.”

There was something almost challenging in the way Dimitri said that. “Yep, it sure does keep me warm.” He genuinely couldn’t tell if Dimitri knew he wasn’t so cold anymore. On one hand, it was  _ obvious _ that the castle was warm. On the other hand, Dimitri was awful at determining temperature. “I’ll be warm enough with a big seal on top of me. I want to see what you look like as a seal.”

Dimitri’s lips turned down. “I look the same as you do, just proportioned differently.”

“I don’t exactly have a mirror to vainly gaze into my big beady eyes, Your Sealness.”

“Do you no longer want my cloak?”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all!” He clutched the cloak protectively. “Nice try, you’re not weaseling out of our agreement so easily!”

The frown vanished. “I see. You’re curious, then.” Dimitri always put an odd emphasis on  _ ‘curious’ _ when talking about him. Dimitri said  _ ‘you’re curious’  _ the same way one might say  _ ‘you have the plague.’  _

“Indeed I am. You know me and my mysteries.” 

“I’ll consider it. You will pester me until I do.”

“Ah, you know me so well! Now, let’s get back to that kingly business of yours, about those taxes…” His fingers brushed the empty tray of biscuits.  _ Damn, _ he did it again. Recently he was an endless hole when it came to food.  _ A side effect of the cold, or of being a seal…? _

* * *

“You are absolutely certain you don’t want it tonight.”

“For the hundredth time, yes! I’ll wear it the rest of the week if you wear it tonight, deal?”

Dimitri perked up. “I suppose that is fair.” He didn’t understand why Dimitri  _ wanted _ him wearing the cloak so often. He had guesses and theories but nothing certain. It had to be another cultural thing revolving around the sealskin, he was sure of it.

Without warning Dimitri bundled the cloak around himself. The change was so seamless that it took a moment for Claude to even notice Dimitri wasn’t human anymore. “Wow. You’re big. I should’ve guessed that, huh.” Seal-Dimitri was the same rough size as human-Dimitri. Human-Dimitri was large and that translated to an equally large seal-Dimitri. 

He patted Dimitri’s seal head. Just like Dimitri said the sealskin was the same as ever. The only difference from him was that Dimitri was longer, sleeker, overall bigger, and missing an eye. In fact, the king was surprisingly tube-shaped. Claude poked at the blubber, finding it not nearly as thick as his own blubber. While Claude might not have seen himself in a mirror,  _ he _ wasn’t nearly as sleek as Dimitri.

“Oh Gods. Am I a fat seal? Dimitri, why didn’t you say anything?!” Dimitri huffed, tossing his head side to side. His big eyes (how was it possible for his face to be so cute?) were impossible to look away from. “I  _ am. _ I’m a complete potato compared to you!” He poked and squished around Dimitri’s body, exploring the seal-ness with human fingers for once. “You’re not jiggly like me either.” He patted his own body. “I haven’t been putting on weight have I? Gods, is this why I’ve been so hungry? Or is it because my body needs more insulation to keep me warm than yours does? Damn, another seal-mystery on the seal-pile. I need to work out as a seal…”

Dimitri huffed louder this time, flipper patting at his chest. Tucking his head down, the fur deflated some as Dimitri transformed. “Quit whining. It’s only because I’m taller than you. It’s my skin, it just fits differently on you. I told you before, you’re a far healthier seal than I.”

“So we both have the same amount of seal-volume when we transform. Yours is put towards being longer and mine’s just fat. Great. But what about—” before he could get his question out, Dimitri ducked his head back into the cloak and was once more an adorable, sleek yet buff seal. “Okay, that’s unfair. You can’t just transform to dodge my questions.”

Dimitri stared at him as if to say  _ ‘Of course I can.’  _ Dimitri maneuvered himself onto the bed, displaying far more dexterity than Claude could manage (granted Claude rarely moved very far as a seal as he spent most of his time sleeping. Maybe that was why he was so round…)

“How do we do this?” he murmured mostly to himself. Despite lacking in some blubber, Dimitri was very dense as a seal. Muscular, he had to assume. Shrugging, he settled into bed beside the big seal. Wrapping an arm around him, he petted the places he knew to be the best spots. Dimitri shoved a wet nose in his face, causing him to sputter out a laugh. “Do you want pets or not?”

It took a bit for them to find a mutually comfortable position. When he did, it was  _ bliss. _ Dimitri was a long, soft, fuzzy,  _ warm _ pillow. Perfect for hugging and squeezing (so long as Dimitri didn’t roll onto him in his sleep and suffocate him). No wonder Dimitri liked sleeping with him as a seal.

He spent an hour appreciating Sealmitri. Despite spending a chunk of time as a seal himself, he’d never seen himself in a mirror. He hadn’t even seen any other seal before (he grew up in a desert, where would he find a  _ seal?). _ The large animal was shockingly cute. Downright adorable. He scratched at a few places he knew felt good, entranced by the way seal eyes relaxed shut in a soft comfort that human-Dimitri never seemed to allow himself.

It was a good night.

* * *

“So if a selkie-as-a-seal has sex with a real seal, can children be produced?”

Dimitri nearly spat out his tea. “Claude!”

“What? It’s a legitimate question! So if a selkie-woman has sex with a male seal, then turns back into a human, what do her kids look like? After all, she was biologically a seal at the moment of conception.  _ Oo, _ how about the other way around? Can a female seal give birth to a selkie baby that has the ability to become a human baby?”

“Claude, that’s beastiality.”

Claude threw up his hands. “What a seal does is up to the seal, I’m not here to judge different cultures. Wait, how intelligent are seals? Hm. I wonder if a normal seal can tell if a selkie-seal isn’t normal… I imagine the males wouldn’t care if a female is a seal or selkie regardless. Have you seen the crazy sort of stuff some animals try to mate wit—”

He reached forward and pulled his skin tight around Claude’s neck, silencing the former duke. Wide green eyes became wide black eyes. Wagging a flipper, Claude lost his balance and slipped out of the chair. From the ground Dimitri received a baleful attempt of a glare (and he’s seen glares from Felix before). It was still very cute.

He thunked his head onto the table, kneading at his temples. Usually Claude’s chatter was a balm to his damned soul, but today he just didn’t have any patience. Claude growled and nipped at his ankle. He really  _ should _ apologize and turn the man back. Yet despite Claude’s clear displays of annoyance, the former duke wasn’t barking or shouting. Claude knew he would take the skin away the moment he barked. So long as Claude wasn’t barking, that was as good as permission to leave him as a seal.

He got out of the chair and laid down, face-first into the carpet. “This is all your fault,” he grumbled into the fabric. Leicester was proving  _ nagging _ to reintegrate into Faerghus. Not difficult so much as  _ endlessly testing his patience. _ He wasn’t sure the forces they were promising were worth it.

Claude huffed hot breath over his neck, shoving a wet nose into his ear. He bit back a yelp and rolled over, glaring at Claude’s adorably innocent expression. The seal blinked three times in rapid succession, then sneezed straight onto his face. Groaning and wiping his face, he grunted out a terse  _ “bless you” _ before returning to commune with the threads of the carpet. That inquisitive wet nose poked at his cheek, then down his neck as whiskers prickled his skin. He grumbled into the rug. Claude repeated a variation of his grumble as if to mock him. 

Claude gave a long, overdramatic huff. Then his seal body scooched closer, scrabbling on top of his own back. He wasn’t sure if Claude knew the pressure calmed him and slowed his whirring thoughts, or if Claude was just trying to bug him into reversing the transformation. The man-turned-seal whined beside his ear.

“Can we stay like this? Just for a bit?” 

Claude grumbled but relented, shifting a bit as he straightened into a more comfortable position. Weighing more as a seal than a human, the pressure squeezed both air and dread from his lungs. Claude slid his head to lay beside Dimitri, shutting his eyes as a cue for naptime. ‘Naptime’ was a new concept to him, but Claude espoused the value of the luxury. Every so often the man managed to drag him into naptime despite the absurdity of it. Times like these where he was trapped under safe, soft bulk. He was strong enough to get up if he  _ wanted, _ but he very much did not. The illusion of Claude forcing him to rest was enough for him to allow himself to try.

“Your Highness?”

He jolted awake and nearly flung a drowsy Claude off his back. “Dedue! I, ah, can explain.”

“No need,” Dedue professionally replied, eyes respectfully facing the other direction. Dedue was the only one that knew his and Claude’s secret. “You have a meeting soon. Claude is requested by one of the visiting Leicester nobles.”

He unearthed a numb arm and scrubbed his eye, squinting at the sun. “How long did I sleep?”

“Your typical lunch break has run an hour over schedule.” He and Claude settled down for a nap near the beginning of their lunch hour, which meant he slept nearly two hours. Claude raised his head and gave a loud yawn, uncaring of the wasted time.

“Thank you, Dedue. That will be all. I will be out soon.” With a nod of his head, Dedue left them alone.

Claude rolled off of him, wiggling his belly and giving a pointed stare. It was habit to indulge at this point, scrubbing his hands roughly up and down Claude’s underside. Claude made noises of appreciation, squeezing his eyes shut as he enjoyed the sensation. A few minutes later Claude had enough and barked. Claude rarely barked. “What’s wrong? Oh! Apologies, I got caught up.” He moved up to Claude’s neck and pulled away the magic.

“That wasn’t an invitation for a belly rub,” was the first thing Claude mumbled. 

“You wiggled your belly.”

“I  _ wiggled _ in general. I don’t exactly have a big vocabulary!”

“You weren’t complaining.” 

Claude rolled his emerald eyes and crossed his arms as he sat up. “I didn’t crush you, did I? You were under me for a long time.”

He nodded. “It was… nice. Much needed. Thank you.”

“If it wasn’t for your crest I would have slowly crushed you to death. I’m not exactly  _ light _ bundled in your cloak.”

“Your weight is nice,” he repeated. “I apologize for changing you without your permission.”

Claude stared at him for an uncomfortable eternity. “Just warn me next time. The nap was nice, but I like finishing my sentence at the very least.”

“The nap was very nice,” he repeated, feeling his ears heat. “Thank you.”

“You really found that comfortable?” Claude looked away and scratched at the back of his neck. “You can tell me I’m fat. I’m not blind.”

He cocked his head. “You’re still hung up on this?”

“I’m not ‘hung up’ on anything. But it’s a fact. Even though it’s your fault.”

“Are you self conscious about your weight?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Your Sealness,” Claude calmly replied in a manner so smooth it betrayed the fact he was lying.

“I’m the one who should be self conscious about my weight. You’ve seen how sickly and thin I am as a seal. Not a soft spot on my body.”

Claude pouted. “You’re plenty soft. I’m so ‘soft’ that I can barely move on my own.”

“That’s due to how unused you are to moving on land as a seal. It takes practice regardless of your weight. I fail to see anything wrong with the amount of blubber you carry around. You make a very attractive seal.”

It wasn’t until Claude’s eyebrows shot up that he caught his words. Those sly lips curled into a smirk. “So you do find other seals attractive.”

“No! That wasn’t what I meant! I just meant that you’re very soft and well proportioned! As a seal!”

“So I’m not well proportioned as a human?”

“No!” He snatched Claude’s forearm and patted him. “You are  _ perfectly _ proportioned, in both forms!” Green eyes crinkled as his tanned hand covered his curling lips. A sputtering snicker straight out of his academy memories graced his ears. It was a laugh he hadn’t heard for five long years. He hung his head and sighed, smiling despite himself. “I’m glad you find my blundering humorous.”

“Always! Can you blame me? You fluster so easily!” To prove his point, Claude winked. That mere wink spawned butterflies in his belly. “I guess it makes sense that a high percentage of blubber is seen as attractive in cold-faring creatures like seals.”

“That’s—that’s not what I meant!” Claude wasn’t  _ wrong, _ but he wasn’t right either! Yet he couldn’t say he enjoyed the squish and heft to Claude’s form; that would be weird. The layers of blubber protected Claude from his monstrous strength. That itself was its own form of appealing. And if he  _ did _ find seal-Claude ‘attractive’, it wasn’t in the same way he found human-Claude attractive! Though the blubber did look good on him. Objectively. Claude wasn’t  _ wrong _ about seals preferring a thick layer of fat when searching for a mate. Not that he would know. Obviously. “I am  _ not _ attracted to other seals. Claude. I am being serious. Stop snickering.” 

Claude did not stop snickering. “You’re sealious about that?”

“Yes I’m serious—what did you just say?”

Claude winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your appreciation of seals. My lips are  _ sealed.” _ He stared at Claude. A half-forgotten pressure built in his throat. He pressed his palm over his mouth. “You okay?  _ Icy _ you aren’t looking so hot.  _ Seal _ something already.” Claude paused. “For real, are you choking?”

He shook his head. Out burst laughter the likes of which only Claude could draw out. “Those are horrible!” he gasped between laughs.

Claude clutched his chest and gasped. “Horrible? How could I forget your unique sense of humor. My feelings will never  _ reblubber!” _

They were both very late to their meetings. Claude left with a  _ “I’ll be  _ sealing _ you around,” _ causing him to be even later.

* * *

Dimitri laid back on the mattress, closing his eye and sighing. Perhaps if he laid still long enough, he could pretend to be a corpse. Corpses didn’t have to deal with governing a country.

“Working yourself to the bone won’t help anyone,” Claude said. He flinched. Of course the former duke snuck into his room again. Opening his eye, he found Claude lounging in the shadows of night at his desk. “Trust me. Been there, done that. Collapsing from exhaustion only makes everything worse.”

“You’re one to talk. You look more tired than I feel.” Dark rings made themselves at home under Claude’s eyes. “I apologize for keeping you up. You’ve been waiting for me.”

“No worries, I’ve been busy. My influence is nothing compared to yours, but I have my fair share of experience putting out fires. You’ll want to review these first and stamp your signet to make it all official, but I’m certain you’ll agree with everything I wrote.” He gestured down to the paper-laden desk. “Hope you don’t mind I wrote under your name.”

“You did my paperwork?” He boggled the stack. 

Claude casually shrugged. “Wouldn’t want you straining that eye of yours. I’m just earning my keep.”

His chest clenched.  _ Of course Claude figured him out. _ He told no one of the difficulty he experienced reading with only one eye, nor of the headaches and migraines extended reading caused him. Claude didn’t need to be told. “Thank you. You didn't have to.”

“Oh  _ please, _ this is nothing compared to what I’m used to. Kingly authority sure has its perks when it comes to avoiding the worst nobility has to offer.” Claude stood and moved towards the bed. “Now then. His Kingliness must be exhausted, sure must be hard being top seal all day long. I’m serious about the collapsing thing. You need rest.” Claude wore the warm nightwear Dimitri had commissioned. His stomach churned at the sight. Something about the traditional Faerghan clothes, the color of royal blue against his emerald eyes, the sly smirk and relaxed posture… 

Claude fit himself into his arms. Snuggled up to him. Closed his green eyes and hummed, pressing his cheek against Dimitri’s chest. Reached out for Dimitri’s hand and pulled it around himself. Dimitri dumbly complied, carefully cradling a very human Claude in his arms. Never had he held Claude — or any other human — so close. Fear of breaking Claude warred with something warm and fluttering. 

Claude’s relaxed smile tilted downwards. The handsome man in his arms quietly grunted, tugging slightly at his hand. Claude wiggled a bit, twisting and turning before opening his eyes and raising a single eyebrow.

“Do you want my cloak first?” he choked out, praying the faint moonlight didn’t reveal the heat of his cheeks.

Claude blinked slowly, cocking his head. Then, frowning, his eyes flew wide and he scrambled backwards. “Oh! Damn, it’s uh, habit, haha. My bad, sure, I’ll take your cloak now.”

“Did you forget you weren’t a seal?”

“Of course not! As I said, just habit.” Claude rushed to throw the cloak over himself, hiding his darkened face into the fur and transforming in an instant. If he desired to hide his fluster, turning into an honest seal was a poor choice. His body language oozed embarrassment. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. Claude was just too endearing. He opened his arms for Claude to petulantly flop closer, turning his head away and refusing eye contact. He petted down Claude’s back, melting the seal’s irritation instantly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude, assuming seals and selkies have similar intelligence: I have questions about cross-species banging. I have. So many questions. My curiosity shall not let me rest.  
> Dimitri: I do not have answers so don’t ask.  
> Claude: Too late, I’m gonna
> 
> Dimitri: Crush my sadness Claude  
> Claude: ;_; you’re calling me fat  
> Dimitri: And round, yes. All body types are valid in this household (except mine)


	3. The Snuggle Agenda Cannot be Stopped

It quickly became apparent Claude’s lapse was not a one-off occurrence. The next day Claude sat on his lap during their tea time, babbling about some theory for three whole minutes before stiffening and awkwardly getting up. Later during a private dinner Claude leaned over to try a piece of Dimitri’s pheasant and nuzzled him before returning to his own chair. It was done so smoothly that Dimitri was certain Claude didn’t notice the action. It didn’t stop with that, only growing in frequency as the days passed. Sometimes Claude noticed and withdrew, uncharacteristically flustered each time. Other times Claude didn’t notice at all. It was like Claude was drawn to him. So far it only occurred in private. Which was good. He didn’t know how to possibly explain the former Duke of Riegan crawling into his lap and rubbing up against him, silently demanding belly rubs or head pats or back scratches. 

Like he was currently doing.

“And with Rowe’s main force, the empire will—” Claude paused, then went rigid.  _ There it is, the realization. _ Claude heaved an unsteady sigh, shoulders rising as his head lowered. “You can shove me off, you know.”

“I don’t mind.” He really,  _ really _ did not mind.

Claude dropped his head and palmed his eyes. “I guess I need to wear your sealskin less if  _ this _ is the effect it’s having on me.”

_ Effect? _ He continued to stroke down Claude’s curls. “Nonsense.”

“Dimitri, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. At this rate I’m going to crave contact so much I’ll walk up to strangers and hug them.”

He tightened his grip on Claude’s hip. “That is your issue? You believe my sealskin is making you more… cuddly?”

“You got a better explanation for this behavior? Dammit. You never told me seals were addicted to snuggling.” As far as he was aware, that was not a side-effect that came with being a seal. “Look, I’ve adjusted to the cold weather well enough. It’s been fun but it’s for the best if I stop using your skin.”

His heart dropped. “You don’t like it anymore?”

“No, that’s not what I said! It’s the most comfortable thing I have ever had the pleasure to enjoy. That’s some high praise, Your Kingliness. But  _ this,” _ he gestured to himself, then to Dimitri’s hand still trailing through his hair, “can’t continue. Who knows what other side effects I’ll experience with prolonged use. Imagine if I try latching onto someone like Felix the way I do you! I’ll be cut to bits.”

“You desire others?” he growled.

“I mean, not yet? Hm. Maybe because it’s  _ your _ skin, it’s sort of… attuning me to you? It would explain why I can’t seem to get you out of my head…”

Odd. His own mind strayed to thoughts of Claude more often than not. Was it possible his sealskin was the cause? The enchanting noble in his lap was distracting even on his most focused days, but Claude made up for the loss of productivity by helping. Yet he’d never heard of any effects of wearing a sealskin like Claude described… At least, not on Claude’s end. It was only natural  _ he _ bond to Claude. 

Claude mumbled quietly to himself as he burrowed his forehead against Dimitri’s shoulder. Whether as seal or human, he enjoyed Claude’s presence. The idea of losing Claude’s companionship (despite  _ knowing _ Claude planned to leave after the war) hurt like a dagger to his heart. Perhaps he had grown too attached. 

_ (But how could he not? Claude accepted him.) _

“I’m surprised you aren’t curious enough to experiment,” he surprised himself by saying. “The only way to know if there are other side-effects is to spend more time in my skin.”

“Hah! Too true, however I don’t fancy accidentally gaining a craving for raw flesh as a human.” 

“From my own experiences, I assure you that won’t happen.”

Claude crossed his arms, shaking his head. “No, no. This isn’t the only side effect. You’ve seen me eat — it’s like I’m eating for two. And I’m sleeping far more than I used to. The risk isn’t worth the warmth.”

Something in his chest snapped. “Is that so? We march for Fort Merceus in two days. Our trail will take us through a snowed-in mountain pass. You won’t make it.” They both knew Claude wouldn’t weather that amount of cold comfortably, if at all. 

Green eyes narrowed. “Now that I have  _ proper _ winter gear, I will be perfectly fine in the elements.”   
  
“Very well. Now if you excuse me, I have matters to attend to. Get off my lap.”

Claude flinched, eyes flickering down as if he already forgot his position. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Claude left the room and didn’t return, as he stated. Dimitri didn’t sleep.

* * *

Claude had a problem.

_ Actually, _ he had multiple problems. Problem one: he was predictably cold. His warm jacket helped significantly, but it wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. Marching through the snow was just as miserable as before. Problem two: Dimitri was angry and refused to look him in the eye. Problem three: despite not wearing that sealskin for three nights straight, his thoughts still honed in on  _ Dimitri this _ and  _ Dimitri that.  _ Problem four: his appetite was growing rapidly right beside his desire to hibernate life away. Ever since they left the castle it was much worse. Problem five: he still wanted to cuddle with Dimitri. He wanted to cuddle with Dimitri  _ much _ more than before. It was a miracle he hadn’t accidently snuggled up to him. It was only through the grace of Dimitri avoiding him that he staved off that pesky side-effect.

Problem six: he was going to freeze to death tonight.

There was no abandoned manor to weather the snow this time. Nothing but a flimsy tent all to himself. His extra layers did nothing to keep him comfortably warm. Claude could be stubborn when he put his mind to it. Survival however held no place for stubbornness. His pride cracked in half during his walk of shame from his tent to Dimitri’s. 

Inside the tent, Dimitri was missing. His cloak however was carefully folded in the corner. Unsurprising. Dimitri hadn’t been wearing it much. With any luck the king would forgive him for whatever cultural transgression he crossed (there  _ had _ to be more to it than his request to take a break from the cloak). He was freezing to death and Dimitri always melted in the presence of a cute seal face. Wrapping the cloak around himself, he sighed as familiar warmth overtook him. It felt like coming home.

He laid on the ground as he adjusted to being warm. The first time he transformed had been terrifying (his legs melted together, his hands were nothing but stubs, he could barely move, and he had no idea what happened), but now the strange form was only comforting. He’d come a long ways from his original (very understandable!) panic attack. The skin wrapped around him was like a suit of warm, toasty armor. According to Dimitri, as the prince grew up his hide toughened to match his natural Blaiddyd strength. No natural weapon could pierce his hide (which made the scar on his belly concerning). The thick blubber insulated him both from the cold and absorbed even Dimitri’s strongest grip. His seal body was resistant to ice and fire magic, the blubber insulating him from lightning magic, his hide too tough to be pierced by wind magic. Supposedly his seal body was speedy on a snowy field and could outswim any human, but Claude hadn’t tested that yet. Really, the only downside to being a seal was the lack of ground mobility (and hands and voice.)

“Your Highness? I mean, Your Majesty. Still not used to that… You in here?” Claude froze. Dimitri’s tent was much bigger than the standard tent. It was big enough to contain a small table and tall enough to easily stand inside. It  _ wasn’t _ big enough to have any hiding spots for his round seal body.

“Your Highness?” Sylvain stared at him, eyebrows at his hairline. “Wow, haven’t seen you like this in ages.” The redhead looked away, smile strained in a way he never showed in public. “Is the stress really getting to you? I know we haven’t exactly been on the best terms since… for a long time. But I’m always here for you, Pr—King Dimitri.”

Claude couldn’t undo the seal magic on his own. It wasn’t like he could explain to Sylvain this was a case of mistaken identity. And besides, this was a perfect opportunity to learn a little extra about Dimitri. He looked away, doing his best to imitate Dimitri’s posture. He huffed a gruff noise imitating one of Dimitri’s bad days.

“You look healthier than the last time I saw you. Dedue’s finally getting through to you! No one can resist his cooking.” Sylvain squatted down beside him, holding out a hand. Claude carefully sniffed it (his sense of smell was altered as a seal). He followed it up by laying his head in Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain slowly petted him.  _ Odd. _ It wasn’t half as enjoyable as when Dimitri petted him. Nor did he feel any desire to cuddle up to Sylvain, thank the Gods.

“That’s it… feels good, huh? Bet it’s been a while since you had this…” Something about Sylvain’s tone struck him as off. Before he could follow up his suspicion, Sylvain scratched a spot under his chin. Every nerve in his body melted under the heavenly feeling. Dimitri never scratched him there, but it felt incredible. Sylvain pushed him, catching him off guard. He rolled onto his back before he could stop himself. Sylvain immediately went for his belly and  _ by the Gods, _ Dimitri wasn’t exaggerating when he said Sylvain gave the best belly rubs.

“You know, His Highness wouldn’t have sniffed my hand.  _ Thief.” _ Sylvain slammed his head against the ground, arm braced over his neck. It wasn’t enough to cut off his air supply but he couldn’t get up. “What was your plan? Good luck getting that sealskin off. You’re stuck. The emperor must be desperate if she’s stooping this low. The only reason you’re alive right now if because killing you would mean damaging His H—Majesty’s skin.” He tried to buck Sylvain off of him. During Sylvain’s petting session he got distracted enough that he didn’t notice Sylvain straddling his body, firmly locked in place. Neither of them were going anywhere. 

_ ‘I’m not an enemy!’ _ he wanted to say. Instead it came out as a sharp  _ “Arp!” _

“Pleading for your life will get you nowhere.” Sylvain was decently intimidating without his grin. Dimitri mentioned that stealing a skin was a ‘very serious crime’, and apparently that wasn’t an exaggeration. “You better be ready to face the king’s wrath. The penalty for your crime is a long, painful execution.”   


Welp. Hopefully Dimitri wasn’t  _ that _ angry at him.

“Sylvain?” came Dimitri’s voice from outside. “Why are you in my tent?”

_ “Arp!” _

“Take a step inside and see, Your Highness. Caught a rat for you.”

Dimitri entered, haggard eye slowly drifting around the tend before landing on them. “What do you—” All at once Dimitri shot into action. “Get off of him!” Sylvain was yanked away and roughly tossed aside like a ragdoll. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He wiggled a flipper towards his throat. Having vocal cords would be very handy. “In a moment.” Dimitri turned to glare at Sylvain. “Explain yourself this instant!”

Sylvain picked himself off the ground. “O-kay, my bad. Apologies, Your Majesty. I assumed your skin was being stolen. Sorry for walking in on your secret lover. Congrats, by the way.”

“He is  _ not _ my—!” Dimitri groaned into his hand, red steadily spreading across his cheeks. “Argh. Sylvain, I forbid you from telling anyone about this.”

“No worries, I’m not about to tell anyone I almost assaulted our king’s secret consort.”  _ No ‘almost’ about the assault. _ Not that he was Dimitri’s consort, secret or otherwise.

_ “Sylvain!”  _ Sylvain chuckled and darted out of the tend. Dimitri scrubbed at his face before returning his attention down. “Did he hurt you?” Dimitri asked as he peeled back the sealskin, freeing him.

“Only my pride. You know better than me how borderline indestructible your sealskin is.” He offered a sheepish smile. “So… hi there Your Kingliness. How has your evening been? It’s funny, see, I might have underestimated certain terrain details and overestimated my personal stubbornness.”

“I see that,” Dimitri murmured and pulled him close.  _ Oh good, _ Dimitri wasn’t angry at him anymore. He might survive the night without freezing to death. “Do you plan to stay the night?”

“Oh, you know, only if you don’t mind,” he played it off with a shrug. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I haven’t been. I suppose I have been… cold, recently.”

“You?  _ cold? _ I didn’t know that was possible.” He eyed the cloak wrapped around him. “We can share. It’ll be a tight squeeze though.”

“I’m not physically cold.” Dimitri hesitated. Slowly he picked Claude up and settled him down on the bedroll. “I can’t fully describe it. Please don’t laugh. My chest has been cold. Inside.”

“Have you seen a healer about that?”

Dimitri shot him an incredulous look. “Absolutely not.” The king’s expression fell into a pout. “Have  _ you _ seen a healer about your recent penchant to seek my body heat?”

His ears burned. “That is very different.”

“If my hunch is correct, I believe they are related.” Dimitri fiddled with some of the fur framing his face. “Has your… ahem, your absentminded craving for human contact diminished at all?”

He sunk his head into the fabric. “Not exactly. This seal magic sure is complicated.”

“Claude, this has nothing to do with seal magic.”

If he wasn’t so cozy bundled up, he would have thrown up his hands. “What other excuse do you have for our symptoms?”

Dimitri pressed his lips tightly together. “Perhaps this is a discussion for the morning. You may never wish to see me again… I cannot in good conscience allow you to freeze without me tonight.”

“Oh  _ Dimitri, _ you know me better than that. Dangling the answer to this mystery in front of my face and trying to leave it on a cliffhanger?  _ Please. _ Go on, fess up. Let’s hear it.”

The king closed his eye.  _ “In… hold… out…” _ Dimitri breathily whispered to himself. It was a level of sweet nervousness that Claude hadn’t witnessed since their academy days. Gulping, Dimitri reopened his eye and stared down at him intensely. “I fear if I tell you, you will flee into the night and I will never see you again.”

“In  _ this _ weather? I  _ will _ die if I do that.”

“Exactly. You will flee, die in the elements, and I will never see you again.” The king’s expression fell from nervousness into misery. “Even if you don’t, our time together is short. Nothing I have offered has swayed you. After the war you will leave.”

“All the more reason to get this secret off your chest. Listen, I promise I won’t flee. Whatever it is, so long as you don’t say  _ ‘I’m preparing myself to kill you Claude von Riegan, now prepare to die!’ _ I won’t flee.”

“I would never!”

“Exactly! Now come on, fess up. Let’s hear it.”

Misery switched back to nervousness. “Very well. As you know, Sealskins are typically reserved for being shared between, ahem, lovers. In truth, few selkies ever share their skins.” Dimitri gulped, pausing as he performed another breathing exercise. Claude nearly absentmindedly wiggled into Dimitri’s lap before he caught himself. “It is a frightening prospect to allow another into our skin and walk about. To allow another access to a precious piece of ourselves is… well. It requires utmost trust. For one without crest blood it is simpler, as they cannot truly become one with a selkie’s skin. Typically when crested nobility marry other crested nobles, both are of Faerghus and thus both already have skins of their own.  _ Trading _ sealskins is intimate of course, but there is a balance of power between sharing. However, in the rare exception in which there is only one sealskin to be shared…”

Dimitri trailed off. Claude fiddled with a tuft of fur, unable to match Dimitri’s intense stare. “Okay, I get it. I, uh, stepped over a dozen lines in borrowing your cloak the first time.”  _ And sent a dozen mixed messages, it seemed. _

Nervousness melted into painful sincerity. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad it was you. I never imagined anyone would so much as  _ tolerate _ me the way you have. And you say you  _ enjoy _ my skin.” He dared a peek at Dimitri’s face again. The king was still staring just as intensely as before, cheeks rolling into a cherry red. He darted his eyes away. “To think there is someone who finds comfort in me… who seeks me out, who fights for more time enveloped in my skin and arms, rather than seeking to flee from seeing my true self…”

_ ‘It’s just some leather and fur,’ _ he wanted to say. But that wasn’t true, now was it? Any skilled tailor could provide him with a replica of Dimitri’s cloak and none of them would be the same. He liked  _ Dimitri’s _ cloak. It was warm, soft, loved, and smelled of home and safety. And it also turned him into a seal.  _ Mysterious! Fascinating! _ Obviously he needed to know more!  _ That _ was why he liked the cloak so much. So what if the skin wrapped tightly around him made him feel held and protected? He could get that from… from… 

_ Oh. _ He couldn’t get that from anywhere but the cloak or Dimitri.  _ Oh. _ No wonder he kept cozying up to Dimitri.

“You never have had a good opinion of yourself,” he tutted out loud, ignoring his burning face. “Of course I didn’t run away from whatever silly nonsense you’ve locked in that head of yours. You’re a good man Dimitri, even if you don’t choose to believe that.”

A tremor jittered through Dimitri. “How can you say that? Even as you lay in my skin, surely you feel the beast within my heart.”

“No beast here. All I feel from your cloak is a big, honest, warm hug. Physically and metaphorically warm.”

“Oh,” Dimitri whispered. “That’s all you feel? You’re certain?”

“What do you expect me to feel?”

“My bloodlust. Wrath. Despair. Hatred. Grief. Disgust. The core of my being. My very heart and my heart’s most fervent desire laid bear.”

He unbundled himself some, sitting up to wrap one end of the cloak around Dimitri’s shoulder. “None of that in here. All I feel is safe and warm. Sounds like those other things don’t run as deep as you think they do.”

Dimitri stared at him like a man dying in the desert eyed an oasis — as if he was too good to be true and might vanish as a mirage at any moment. “I fancy you,” Dimitri blurted out.

The words didn’t immediately process in his brain. “You… fancy me?”

“Since the academy. I find you very attractive in mind, body, and spirit, Claude von Riegan.”

“Is that so?” he asked, a bland smile plastered onto his face as a placeholder while his mind scrambled to keep up with Dimitri’s words.  _ Fancy? Attractive? Academy? Very? _ What were words anyways?

“You are the sun. Your sunlight brings a warmth to me when everything else is cold and lifeless. These past few weeks have been the best of my life. My thoughts orbit around you even when you aren’t around. Waking up with you by my side is a joy I thought impossible for one as depraved as me. I… I like you, Claude.”

“Ah. I see. Neat.” ‘ _ Smooth. Real smooth. Try again, idiot,’  _ the voice in his head (sounding suspiciously like Hilda) told him. “I had the biggest crush on you back in school, you know.”

“I, ah, did not know. You hid it well. I certainly did not hide my feelings so gracefully. Do you… still…?” 

“Let me put it this way: I trusted you would arrive in Derdriu to save the day and my life, and that’s without knowing you… ahem, fancied me. I don’t extend that trust to just anyone.”

“Is that a yes…?”

“Just kiss me already.”

* * *

“It’s strange to wake up to your human face,” Dimitri admitted with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I like it. You, I mean.” 

“And  _ I _ like starting the day with flattery,” he teased back as he woke up. Being warm  _ and _ human was a nice change. As comfortable as being a seal was, it was grating to wake up unable to do anything until Dimitri turned him back into a human. Being human had its downsides though, made more apparent by the freezing air bludgeoning his face. “Sleep well?” he asked into Dimitri’s neck, soaking up what warmth he could find.

Dimitri hummed as strong arms trapped him in a hug. “I want to wake up with you every morning. What can I possibly offer you to have you stay by my side?”

His good mood soured. “Dimitri…”

“I know. You won’t be swayed. Forget I said anything.”

“It won’t be goodbye forever.” He squeezed at the pelt underneath them, threading it between his fingers. “I’ll come back. If you’ll have me. I won’t blame you if someone else catches your ‘fancy’ in the meantime.”

Dimitri’s hug tightened. “Absolutely not. I will wait forever if I must. You promise you will return?”

“Unless I die between then and now, I promise I’ll return to you. Hey, chin up. I’m still here until you finish the war. We’ve still got time together.”

As much as they both wanted to lay in bed together all morning, they had duties to attend to. Claude slipped back into usual old routine seamlessly — with the addition of occasional touching. A part of him still couldn’t believe Dimitri returned his feelings. After so many years believing Dimitri to be dead, a potential future with Faerghus’ king was too good to be true. He felt justified in seeking additional kisses just to affirm his reality. Dimitri enthusiastically did not mind the delay.

“Here, let me lend a hand,” he offered, sliding his hands around the cold metal of Dimitri’s chestplate to strap it into place (but not before sliding his hands underneath to cop a feel and soak feeling back into his numb hands). His ‘help’ was inefficient at best and further delayed them. Regardless they made progress towards being ready for the day no matter how slow.

Finally dressed, Claude hesitated. He wasn’t wearing his stupidly cold Barbarossa outfit anymore but his ‘winter’ outfit was nonetheless colder than the warmth of Dimitri’s cloak. Plus his clothes didn’t smell like Dimitri and weren’t soft and nearly so cozy… taking the cloak off was his least favorite part of the morning. Reluctantly he pulled back the collar, wincing as his fingers brushed hickeys and bites lining his collarbone. He needed a scarf.

“Wear it,” Dimitri commanded, roughly tugging the cloak back into place. “I want others to see you wearing it.”

_ Fine by him. _ “The cloak that implies we’re sleeping together?” he reminded Dimitri.  _ Technically _ true though they hadn’t moved past making out and a lot of touching.

Pale cheeks reddened as the king looked away. “Only if you are… amenable.” Dimitri tightened his grip, bunching the fur of the cloak tight around his throat.

“I am beyond amenable. Enthusiastic, even. I’m shocked you’re so willing to dirty your reputation though.” The people of Faerghus were loyal to their king, so there was no need to fear a scandal. Regardless, it was odd that Dimitri was so willing to bend tradition. To his understanding, Faerghans expected marriage before any sexual conduct. 

_ “You _ will never ‘dirty’ my reputation, nor do I care.” Claude’s fault for falling for cultural stereotypes. Dimitri wasn’t like him; constantly calculating political ramifications of every breath he took. “I want everyone to know you are off limits. You are  _ mine _ now.” For a moment Dimitri’s expression darkened, rushing a hot thrill through Claude. Then the old sweet prince returned as he flustered. “That isn’t to say I own you or anything like that! You’re still your own person, of course, I just—”

“Easy, easy. I get it. I should have expected you to be the jealous type.” He winked, tugging part of the cloak low enough to show off one of the hickeys on his neck. “If you don’t mind associating with a schemer like me, I have no issues in the arrangement.”

“Don’t demean yourself like that. You are so much more than a ‘schemer’. You are everything to me.”

He turned around to hide his own fluster. “Well, now that we’re both dressed, there’s plenty to do today!”

“Indeed,” Dimitri said, smile audible in his voice. The taller man pressed a kiss to his forehead before exiting the tent. Claude spent three seconds to slap his cheeks before meandering  _ casually _ out of the tent.

“Sylvain!” Dimitri grunted, stomping over to the nearby redhead. Sylvain, leaning against a close tree, winked and waved.

“Morning you two. You’re welcome, by the way. People kept trying to interrupt your morning. I sent them on various errands. The important stuff went to Ingrid so no worries. Did you two have an  _ eventful _ morning?”

Dimitri groaned.

Claude wandered away (he wasn’t  _ running away. _ It was a tactical retreat to cool off his cheeks elsewhere). He had duties too, just not as many as Dimitri. For now, his most important duty was breakfast. 

* * *

He knew he was going to get some looks for wearing Dimitri’s cloak, but this was ridiculous. He expected the hanging jaws, open stares, and hushed whispers. He didn’t expect the weird degree of reverence. 

As he settled down in the circle of Blue Lions (curious about their reaction, of course), he received hanging jaws, open stares, and dead silence. He winked at Ashe, causing the other archer to turn red and hastily look away. It seemed Dimitri wasn’t kidding when he said wearing the cloak would make people assume they were sleeping together.

“Oh my! Congratulations, Claude,” Mercedes told him, beaming. “This is such a surprise!”

“It isn’t,” Felix snapped, glaring a hole into a tree stump in the other direction. “Don’t pretend you all haven’t noticed them circling each other like animals. His whining excuses about being ‘cold’ were just as annoying and intolerable as Dimitri’s sickening moon-eyes.”

“Excuse you, I don’t like those air quotes around ‘cold’. It’s _freezing._ Not all of us are magically resistant to the cold!” Claude feigned a wounded look. “And to think my subterfuge with His Royalness was so easily seen through. You hurt me, Felix.”

“Good.”

“W-w-wait!” Annette shouted, jumping to her feet as she openly boggled him. “For real? His H—Majesty really gave you his cloak? For really real?!”

He patted at the soft fur against his shoulders, preening a bit. “What, you think this is some cheap knockoff?”

Ingrid glared at Felix, then him, then back to Felix. “Don’t pretend you saw this coming. Just because they’ve been together doesn’t mean anyone expected them to move this fast!” She turned back and pointed at him. “And  _ you. _ I’ll trust our king’s judgment about you, but that doesn't mean I’m happy. If you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down and make you  _ regret _ being born.”

“Aw, cut His Highness some slack,” Sylvain said from behind him, joining their circle with breakfast in hand. “No one would be stupid enough to play with our king’s heart.” The redhead gave him a sharp smile before it softened into a wink. “How’s it feel to be the talk of camp?”

“Oh, you know how I love the spotlight. I might not be a duke anymore but I can’t let Dimitri hog all the glory.”

Annette gasped. “Oh Goddess, how did we not see it? He gave His Majesty the Leicester lands! Just like—like—!” She flailed her hands and made an unintelligible noise. 

“Was this your intention all along?” Ingrid accused him.

“It’s like a story book!” Ashe exclaimed, shaking Ingrid’s attention away from him and somehow softening her icy expression. “It’s so romantic! The duke in distress, casting out his faith to be rescued and saved! His faith being repaid as the righteous king swoops in and sweeps the duke off his feet! They come together, merging their lands and forces to face the wicked empire hand-in-hand! History will tell their legend right alongside Loog’s triumph!”

“You forgot the detail about the shivering idiot who nearly froze to death just to get Dimitri’s attention,” Felix added. “History better not forget that part.”

“For the last time, it isn’t  _ my _ fault I’m not built like you superhuman ice-immune monsters. I grew up in a very hot place!” He had to admit he was surprised at how much positivity he received so far. Ingrid and Felix aside, everyone was congratulating him for ‘sleeping’ with Dimitri. 

“Ooo Claude! I bet you’re super excited for all the feasts to come after the war! Those are your favorite!” Annette sidled up to him, noticeably keeping a chaste foot between them. “First we’ll have a victory feast if — no, when — we beat the Empire. Then King Dimitri’s official coronation. Then we’ll have a feast for you two, Your Highness!”

The breath left his lungs with Annette’s one-two punch. His thought of  _ ‘why have a feast for us’ _ was interrupted by Annette’s use of his not-so-well-known title. He hadn’t even told Dimitri yet, how did she know? He cleared his throat, willing his shock to stay away from his face. “What did you just call me?”

Sylvain snickered. “Welcome to the life of royalty, Your Highness.”  _ How?! _

“It  _ is _ your official title now! Unofficially. Unofficially officially? I mean, His Majesty’s cloak makes it as official as it needs to be.  _ Oh! _ I guess Leicester does things differently. See, there can’t be  _ two _ kings, because that would just get confusing! So if a monarch marries someone of the same gender — wow, I think this is the second time that’s happened in Faerghus’ history! — then the monarch’s spouse gets the next title down. So for the husband of a king, that makes you the prince consort! Thus,  _ Your Highness. _ Heh, hope you weren’t going for His Majesty’s title!”

“That makes sense,” he said as his brain screeched together like two broken gears.  _ Marriage. Annette was talking about marriage.  _ “You’re leaping ahead of yourself though. No need to go so fast.”

“I guess it’ll be kinda silly to have three back-to-back feasts. But when else are we going to celebrate it all? Winning the war is a big deal, and so is His Majesty’s coronation, and so is your wedding! It’s not like any of them can be ignored!”

“My wedding,” he repeated with a bland smile pasted over his face. 

“Yep!” Annette confirmed, unable to hear the screeching gears in his head as his mind ground to another abrupt stop. She continued to say words and sentences, probably. His point of reference was trapped in that single moment of time.  _ Wedding. _ Oh  _ sure, _ he  _ thought _ about what marriage with Dimitri would entail. Even back in the academy he had a few daydreams he kept under absolute lock and key about disgusting domestic fantasies between them and their joint kingdoms. And  _ yes, _ he more or less implied he was down to marry Dimitri as soon as he got back from Almyra. But 1) that was private, 2) they never said the words, 3) the logistics were going to be a  _ nightmare _ at best and that was assuming his court was stable (and that he succeeded his bid for the throne), and 4)  _ marriage?! Him?? To Dimitri?? Him and Dimitri, married?! _

“You had no idea,” Sylvain’s delighted gasp pulled him back into the present. The redhead’s smugly surprised grin was the sort of expression that warped the laws of reality to become the most punchable thing in existence. Sylvain was lucky he was a disciplined man. “He let you envelop yourself in his sealskin and you  _ didn’t realize?!” _

_ “Sylvain!” _ Ingrid shouted, scandalized red rising in her otherwise pale cheeks. “That’s private!”

“Come on Ingrid, it’s not like I walked in on him on purpose! But I will say, Claude was  _ alone _ in Dimitri’s tent, enveloped in his sealskin.” Annette and Ashe both turned red, even Felix’s cheeks pinkened. 

Mercedes just giggled into her palm. “Oh my, such trust! You two certainly move fast!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grit out,  _ feeling _ how strained his smile was. At least his cheeks were already flushed from the cold.

“Clearly! This is hilarious!” Sylvain threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Of course His Hi—Majesty didn’t think to explain it.” Sylvain leaned close to whisper into his ear. “Usually it goes courtship first, then marriage, then sex,  _ then _ if you’re  _ lucky _ you  _ might _ get to hop into a seal’s heart. Flaunting this around,” Sylvain didn’t even touch the cloak, merely pointing at it, “means you’ve been with King Dimitri in a manner far more intimate than sex. By not rejecting him, that means you two are  _ very _ married.”

“That so?” he replied as filler while his brain decided that hey, having all the emotions at once was a great idea!  _ Neat! _

Sylvain’s smile vanished. “You’ve got a 48 hour window to reject his skin from the moment you transformed. If you have second thoughts, your window is closing. I suggest you think hard about it. Once that time slot is up, that’s it. There’s only two ways to divorce him. The first is to burn his skin.” Amber eyes bored into his. “I  _ recommend  _ not doing that, for His Majesty’s sake as well as your own life. The other way to divorce a selkie is for death to break the marriage for you.”

“Uh.”  _ 48 hours was long past. _

Sylvain hauled him to his feet, grinning again. “Well! The rest is a conversation to have with your  _ husband, Your Highness. _ Better hop to it!”

* * *

He didn’t go talk to Dimitri. What would he say?  _ ‘Hey there husband, I don’t appreciate that you didn’t tell me we’ve been married for roughly a month’? _ He absolutely refused to burn Dimitri’s sealskin no matter what circumstance. Providing Sylvain wasn’t messing with him (doubtful), he was well and truly hitched to Dimitri. 

Did it still count though? Dimitri didn’t  _ willingly _ give Claude his cloak in the first place. By that logic, any thief off the streets could be married into royalty if they snuck into a sealskin and ran away for 48 hours. Well, providing they had a crest, since crestless individuals couldn’t be transformed by the sealskin.

Hm. Faerghus’ weirdly strict cloak-rules were starting to make sense. So  _ that _ was why there was a death penalty for stealing a king’s cloak. 

He threw himself into the day’s work as marching began. He strayed away from the former Blue Lions, instead tending to the Leicester forces. Part of him wanted to take the cloak off just to stop the stares. He knew  _ now _ that people saw the cloak and recognized him as their king’s husband (Gods he still wasn’t used to thinking that). But mixed with the slack-jawed surprise was hope. Apparently his reputation was better than he thought it would be among Faerghans. 

He stole a single hour for himself. Borrowing another’s wyvern (he missed his own but she wasn’t built for the cold any more than he was), he flew into the sky and allowed himself to be above it all for a time. Centering himself, he slipped into the meditation exercise he skipped this morning.

He was upset, both at Dimitri and the situation in general. He was frustrated by his own lack of knowledge regarding the entire subject of selkies. He was disappointed, because Dimitri didn’t trust him enough to actually  _ ask _ if he wanted to be married. He was scared. He was so, so afraid of destroying what he scraped together with Dimitri. 

It was easy to recognize the full blame wasn’t on Dimitri. It takes two to form a relationship and Claude was the idiot who blundered into a magic culturally-significant piece of Dimitri. Claude was the one who refused to admit he didn’t have a damned clue what he was doing. Claude was the one who refused to open up, unwilling to put down his mask and just  _ ask _ plainly in the manner that came to Dimitri so naturally.

He was giddy in the worst sort of way, stomach churning at the thought of Dimitri. He was amazed that Dimitri was willing to marry him. He was stunned that  _ anyone _ would so enthusiastically care for him the way Dimitri did. 

He was terrified, because Dimitri didn’t know him as Prince Khalid. He despaired and grieved. Even if Dimitri accepted him wholly and completely, even if everything worked out between them… 

Khalid still had to leave him behind. 

* * *

“Annette talked my ear off this morning at breakfast. She couldn’t decide which feast would be the largest: our victory feast, your formal coronation feast, or our wedding feast.”

“Our wedding feast, of course. I’ll see to it,” Dimitri replied without missing a beat.  _ Ah. _ So Dimitri didn’t know he was clueless.

Coward that he was, he didn’t bring it up. He tucked his head into Dimitri’s cloak and let the warmth and protection envelop him. It was a handy way to avoid further conversation. The man whose skin he wore chuckled softly. Warmly. 

Claude wiggled on the carpet, nowhere near as dexterous as Dimitri was in seal-form. A true reversal of their typical dynamic. He usually transformed on the bed but in his haste to get out of talking, he neglected the fact that he couldn’t heft himself onto the bed as a seal. Dimitri picked up his slack by picking him up, carrying him to bed. 

Dimitri settled them both into bed. “You don’t mind…?” Dimitri softly asked. “You seem upset.”  _ Curse his inability to hide his body language as a seal. _ “You’re certain you don’t mind?”

_ About the marriage. _ He didn’t mind. How could he?  _ Married to Dimitri. _ To think at the start of the year he believed Dimitri dead. Only a few months later and he was married to the future king of a united Fódlan. He nuzzled closer as an answer.

“I’m glad. I’m not opposed to it being otherwise! But, ah… while I admire your human face, I admit it’s hard to sleep knowing the possibility I could harm or crush you in my sleep. You’re so vulnerable as a human.”  _ Oh. _ Dimitri  _ wasn’t _ talking about marriage. The king’s voice fell to a whisper. “And I admit, I like seeing you like this.” Dimitri pressed a chaste kiss to his snout. “You’re beautiful.”

His body moved automatically at the embarrassing flattery, attempting to flatten himself into a pancake to vanish from sight. Dimitri chuckled at him, stroking down his back and nuzzling his face. He nuzzled back, wondering what it would feel like if they were both seals at once. 

“I’m serious. In both forms you are breathtaking. You make for such a handsome seal.” Roughly jiggling his blubber was how Dimitri tried to express appreciation.  _ Curse his cute, adorable seal face! _ Glaring at Dimitri only spurred the man on. It was difficult to convey a glare as a seal. Smacking at Dimitri’s hand only prompted Dimitri to rub a different spot of blubber. Squeezing himself as flat as possible, he relented to Dimitri’s assault with nothing more than a grumble. At least the king was happy.

Eventually Dimitri had his fill of teasing, slowing to tracing little circles against his fur. Lines creased his troubled forehead.  _ Unacceptable. _ Claude jammed his wet nose into Dimitri’s face. The blue eye slowly blinked at him, then slid away in guilt. 

“I wish I knew how to ease your image of yourself the way you do for me. Though I will never allow any other to see you like this, part of me is tempted to carry you onto my throne and settle you beside me back in Fhirdiad. Every man and woman setting eyes on you would be consumed with envy over your perfect body. Don’t concern yourself with your weight in this form. I am endeared by every inch of you. And… I have a confession.”

He hummed a note to pressure Dimitri to continue, hoping to rush the man away from all the flattery.

“I know you’re aware that Dedue is working to reverse some of the thinness I suffered over the past five years of neglecting myself. That is to say, he is trying to return my weight to something healthy.”

Claude nodded, having ferried plenty of meals between the two over the past month. Dedue’s efforts were slowly turning a result — before, Dimitri’s ribs stuck out. Now they were still visible but not sickly.

“My seal form reflects my human form. The cloak is likely to, ah… stretch. A bit. In the upcoming months. Given your smaller stature, a minor stretch for me is a moderate one for you…” 

Oh  _ great. _ He was going to get even plumper! At this rate he was going to turn into an orb! 

“Apologies. I can fast if you prefer, but—”

He barked a negative.  _ Obviously _ Dimitri’s health came first. He just needed to ensure his human form didn’t turn into an orb too. That would make defeating his father in combat even harder when his entire combat style was based on being fast and agile. He just needed to solve his little ‘devour everything and nap forever’ issues.

But that was a problem for future-Claude. Current-Claude had an appointment with sleep-time. He laid his chin on top of Dimitri’s mouth, silencing the slow stream of apologies. Dimitri —  _ his husband _ — took his cue and cuddled closer, falling asleep right beside him.

* * *

“Oh, hello Claude! Is everything okay?”

“Nothing urgent,” he assured Mercedes. “You busy? I have a small question.”

“Not too busy for you. Come in, take a seat. Let me get out some snacks.”

“We’re on a war march and you still have snacks?”

“Of course.” She winked and pulled out a round metal tin filled with various pastries. “Help yourself.” She helped herself immediately. His stomach growled. Reluctantly he took the least sweet-looking piece of food he could find, going through his usual ritual to detect any poison. “Did you have dinner? You mustn’t neglect your health now!”

“I ate.” He ate a big portion too. “That’s actually part of the issue.” He patted the cloak around his shoulder. “What are the side effects of wearing this?” Dimitri said there weren’t any, but also admitted he didn’t entirely know.

Mercedes’ smile grew. “Aside from bonding you and Dimitri together?”

He paused. “You mean marriage, correct?”

“Mm, that too. Here, have another cookie. I suppose he hasn’t told you. I lived much of my early life in Adrestia, so I never have quite understood the scandalous nature of discussing this topic. It’s rather silly I think. It’s very important knowledge yet Dimitri is too embarrassed to tell you. At least I assume.” She hummed and rubbed at her own furred shawl. “When a selkie reaches a certain age, their skin ‘matures’. This is typical when they finish growing. A young selkie can share their skin without fearing it bonding with anyone. When a selkie is mature however, their skin matures in preparation for finding a mate or lifelong companion. At this point, anyone who is compatible with the skin ‘bonds’ with it. Compatible in this case means crested. So long as the bonded individual does not reject the selkie within a certain period of time, the pair will bond for life.”

He gulped.  _ Sylvain’s ‘48 hour’ ultimatum. _ Apparently his newly formed connection with Dimitri went deeper than he realized. “And what does that entail?”

“Not much on your end. Perhaps you’ll find yourself effortlessly understanding Dimitri’s feelings in a heated argument. Or you find completing tasks together easier, as though you perfectly complement one another. You might effortlessly notice pains he hides. Subtle things, so I’ve been told.”

“And on Dimitri’s end?”

“Oh, you have the power to completely destroy him.”

He stared at her. “I think I misheard you.”

She softly giggled. “You didn’t. It’s very silly that no one told you. Faerghus is culturally paranoid about their pelts, at times to their detriment. What’s to stop you from accidentally hurting Dimitri all because no one told you? That cloak you carry holds a piece of Dimitri. If the cloak is destroyed, it will affect Dimitri. He won’t die, but he will never be the same.” Her smile turned sad. “Many waste away. Others take their own life. Some spiral uncontrollably. My sweet younger brother is an example of the latter. You recall the Death Knight?”

The cookie between his fingers dropped onto his lap. “You’re saying…?”

“Take good care of Dimitri’s pelt, Claude. He trusts you with it and with his life.” He opened his mouth but Mercedes beat him to it. “Don’t try to give it back to him. He won’t take it back. That’s like you telling him you reject him. As for other side effects… hm. Dimitri will never be attracted to anyone else so long as you both live. Selkies mate for life, after all!”

“This has been enlightening. Thank you for breaking the Faerghan tradition of silently suffering for no good reason.”   


She giggled. “Happy to help! Was there anything else?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, sort of. I thought it was an effect of being a seal so often. I’m constantly hungry and sleep more than I should.”  _ And uncontrollably drawn to Dimitri’s body heat. _ “It’s either that or I’ve contracted a benign illness.”

“It’s because you’re cold.” She patted his head. “Your body is burning more calories to stay warm, and that tires you out easily. Be sure to eat extra and sleep as much as you’re able during our journey. We’ll be out of the mountains soon!”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it!”

“Oh.”

* * *

“I wish it could have been different,” Dimitri whispered against him. “She was my step-sister.”

“You tried to spare her,” Claude reminded him. “You did everything you could. She knew the conflict would never end unless she was dead.” He pressed a kiss to Dimitri’s cheek, not receiving much of a response. He wasn’t good at dealing with grieving people.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispered, tilting his head away. “I don’t want to do anything tonight.”

“Don’t apologize.” 

“You’re going to leave me too. Soon now.”

“Soon, yes. I’ll be back though. I promise I will be back.”

Dimitri nodded, hugging him as he always did: as if Claude was expensive glass that he was terrified to break. Dimitri didn’t need words and Claude didn’t have words. But he did know something that comforted Dimitri like nothing else. He tugged the cloak around his neck closer, burying his face in the fur and allowing the warmth to flood through his body.

“Claude? Oh.” He nosed into Dimitri’s neck, patting Dimitri’s arm with his flipper. Pink lips turned down and crumpled, blue eye growing damp. Dimitri pressed his face against Claude’s fur and squeezed tight. Had he still been human, the king would have crushed all his organs with the strength of the hug. Encased in Dimitri’s own fur as armor however there was no need for Dimitri to fear his own strength. It didn’t take long for a patch of his fur to dampen. He let Dimitri hold him and wear himself out.

He could delay returning to Almyra for another week. But no longer. The longer he delayed returning to his homeland, the longer it would take to win the throne.

The longer he delayed returning home, the more his resolve eroded. 

* * *

“Take it. It’s yours now.”

He shook his head, pushing the cloak back into Dimitri’s arms. “I’m going east. The heat will kill me if I wear that.”

“Then just carry it with you. Please, take it.”

“Dimitri, listen. I still can’t take it off myself. If I accidentally trap myself in seal form in a  _ desert, _ I will die. Not metaphorically either.” He patted Dimitri’s cheek, the king’s forlorn expression tearing at his heartstrings. “Take care of it for me. I’ll be back for it.”

_ “Please.” _

He took it with him, despite the danger he was heading towards. He would keep it safe, just the same as he would ensure his own safety. 

* * *

“Quit using this ‘heat’ as an excuse to whine, Felix.”

“I will end you.”

Khalid laughed. It was a rare occurrence for him to enjoy the suffering of others, but this was justified.” Come now, come inside. You’ll all find the feast hall a tolerable temperature.”

The Faerghan party rushed inwards. All but one.

“Your Majesty. Welcome to my kingdom.”

Dimitri bowed his head. “Your Majesty.” The other Faerghans already recovered from their shock of seeing Claude in the place of Almyra’s king. Dimitri was evidently still processing it. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me in your letter.”

He grinned and elbowed Dimitri, aching to draw closer. “It was a surprise! You  _ sure _ you can’t believe it?”

Dimitri’s stunned expression gave way for exasperation. “You’re right. This is exactly the sort of stunt to expect from you.”

He circled around and clapped his arm around his fellow king. “Come along! Let’s get you cooled off. I have a debt to repay, after all! You kept me from freezing to death, it’s only fair I keep you from expiring.”

“You aren’t taking me to the feast hall,” Dimitri noted.

“Gods, of course not! Hey, I missed you. Besides, we have a lot to discuss about our  _ joint kingdoms, _ my husband.”

Dimitri, like a wilted flower finally being watered, perked up. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” A year. So short in terms of winning the throne.  _ Forever _ in terms of pining. “Just wait a little longer. We can talk freely in my bedchambers.” He winked. “Is my position as your husband still valid?”

“Of course it is!”

“Heh, just checking. For anyone else, it might be hard to marry me in the eyes of the Almyran people. In your case,” a devious smile unfurled, “the results will be  _ beautiful.  _ If you want to marry me here… all you have to do is win my hand in a contest.  _ Of strength.” _ He couldn’t  _ wait _ to show off his Fódlan husband in front of his court. In front of his people. In front of literally everyone. His court especially was expecting a weakling. Proving them wrong was going to be  _ so _ fun. “My parents are going to love you.”

Before Dimitri could reply, they entered his bedchambers. Dimitri fell silent, staring at his sealskin bunched together on the bed. “It’s too hot to wear it here,” Khalid whispered into Dimitri’s ear, “but I sleep with it every night. I’d rather sleep with  _ you _ though. Now. I seem to recall saying I’d help you cool off. Step one to cooling off is getting you out of these clothes.” Later, he would dress Dimitri in his own fabrics — just as Dimitri once dressed him in his seal cloak. For now, he had no immediate plans to replace Dimitri’s discarded clothes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Huddling for warmth... excessive snuggles... animal shenanigans... yep, my trademark tropes. 
> 
> My original idea for this fic was a 'reverse-Selkie' situation where Claude-the-human gets trapped as a seal, as opposed to the typical selkie-trapped-as-human story. Ended up going in a slightly different direction but the thought is still there.


End file.
